Pensamiento
by Cortexikid
Summary: "Not for the first time since they began their getaway together had she wished Faber was another man entirely. A taller, funnier, more knowledgeable man with bright blue eyes and an unfortunate work moniker." Post 'A Priest Walks Into a Bar'. M/M COMPLETE
1. Reflection

**Pensamiento**

**By Cortexikid**

**Chapter 1: Reflection**

**Disclaimer: In Plain Sight is not mine, if it were, let's just say there would be lots of shirtless Marshall wandering around ;)**

**A/N: So, this is my very first In Plain Sight fanfic. Just a small two-shot set after the Season 3 finale "A Priest Walks Into a Bar". Hope you enjoy!**

"No, Squish, I still have another two days left. You and your crap will just have to wait."

With a roll of her eyes, Mary Shannon snapped her phone shut and threw it on the bed.

"Damn that felt good," she murmured, pulling the damp towel closer to her body. Just as she was about to stand up, she felt strong hands encircle her waist from behind and hot breath against her ear.

"Not as good as you'll feel tonight," a smug voice whispered as teeth nipped at her neck.

She couldn't contain her snort.

"Jesus Faber, ever heard of modesty?"

He laughed into her skin, his breath ticking her neck irritably.

She shrugged him off subtly, taking a step closer to the window and looking out at the spectacular view with an almost inaudible sigh escaping her lips. She had spent the last five days here, in this beautiful place, on vacation for the first time in years. But she wasn't alone. She hadn't been alone for more than a half hour, and it was beginning to piss her off.

"Something wrong, kitten?" the same smug voice asked, the sound of shuffling feet meeting her ears. That sound (along with other things) was beginning to grate on her last nerve. And that damn nickname, well, she warned him about that.

Clenching her jaw, she turned to face him, arms folded tightly across her towel-clad chest.

"Just need a stiff drink. Don't suppose you could be a doll and go to the bar?" she asked, trying in vain to keep her voice as light as possible.

A quick flash of confusion spread across the FBI Agent's face before it conformed into a small smile with a nod of the head.

"Sure. Meet ya down there?"

She almost grimaced at his hopeful tone. _Why is he here again?_

"Yeah, sure. I'll be down in twenty…"

She turned back to the window, reaching for her comb and running it through her hair, letting the last rays of the setting sun fall upon her face. She didn't turn around until she heard the soft snap of the hotel room door closing. Once she was certain the agent was long gone, she shuffled towards the unmade bed and snatched up her cell-phone.

Her teeth chomped on her button lip as her thumb clicked the button searching for a familiar name on the screen.

_Marshall._

Her breathing hitched and sped up without her knowledge and a soft shiver (that was a hell of a lot harder to ignore) crept down her back. She blamed the lack of clothing for that reaction.

It had been over five days into her vacation and she hadn't spoken to anyone (excluding the whiny call from Brandi) since she left Albuquerque and although she knew she was on vacation and not supposed to hear from anyone, there was continuously only one person she wanted to talk to.

Her partner.

Her best friend.

Inspector Marshal Marshall Mann. Just…Marshall. No big deal.

_So why is it taking me so long to click the damn button? _

The answer to that particular question was something that she hadn't let herself think about the entire time she was in Mexico. It was expunged from her brain and the empty space was graciously filled with alcohol, chocolate and sex for the last five days.

But now it was back.

With a goddamn vengeance.

An intense irritation clawed up her stomach as she shook her head vigorously.

_Get a grip Shannon! Don't be that sad, pathetic, woman. Just…call him. It's Marshall for God's sake!_

With a stubborn nod of her head and a harsh exhale of breath she clicked the call button and raised the phone to her ear.

It rang.

And rang.

And rang.

Mary's teeth crept out to nip at her lip again, roughly pulling at the skin until it nearly bled.

"_You've reached Inspector Marshal Marshall Mann. I'm unable to answer my phone at the moment but if you decide to leave a message I will return your call promptly."_

Mary rolled her eyes as her partner's voice met her ear. That stupid message was just like him. So prim and proper. She chose to ignore the unease that had settled in her stomach as she heard the beep.

"Hey, Doofus, just checkin' in. You're probably busy getting your ass kicked at online Scrabble by some eleven year old so I'll make this quick. I'll be back being my sunshine self at the office on Monday. Don't forget to check up on O'Hara for me like a good partner, and give Stan a little hell from me too while you're at it. Oh—and I think I saw one of those birds; you know the black and grey ones with long tails? What are they called again? Damn, I know you told me once. Shocking I forgot some of your verbal diarrhoea huh? Uh, anyway, I'll see you soon okay? Don't stay up all night no matter how much a little girl from India taunts you about your Scrabble ineptitude okay? I don't want you all sleep deprived while you finish my paper work; your chicken scratch is hard enough to read as it is. Okay, bye Doofus…"

Mary clicked the button hurriedly and threw her phone back down on the bed, staring at it as it bounced off her pillow. She didn't like the sound of her own voice as she replayed the voice message in her head. She sounded…off, strained. Not entirely Mary-like and she knew her partner would pick up on it.

"Crap," she murmured, reaching forward, grabbing her tank top, disrobing and pulling it over her head.

She was over-thinking, again. Marshall tended to have that effect on her, especially recently. But there was something else gnawing at her. Marshall didn't ever; in the near eight years she had known him, not answer his phone.

Unless there was something wrong.

No, no. She wasn't going there. There was nothing wrong with Marshall. He was fine, at home in Albuquerque, more than likely doing something childish, just like she thought. She was just being ridiculous. And stalling. Always stalling from what could potentially be an emotional encounter, as was the Mary Shannon way.

She didn't know when the post-sex-bliss wore off but it was well and truly gone now. Maybe it was when she realized that if she and Faber were in a non-sex capacity for more than an hour just…talking…that she found him a little, no, a lot, irritating. Arrogant. Exuding this snaky over-confidence that just rubbed her the wrong way. Whatever it was that caused her to view him in an entirely different light, it had vanished without a trace and now she was left to fix her mask, her façade to try and con an FBI Agent into thinking that she was just as willing as she was five days ago. The sex was good and a fantastic distraction from…regular life but, as Monday drew nearer the discomfort rose in her gut.

It wasn't all her fault however, this she believed with vigour. No, there were extenuating circumstances causing her now fully-fledged unease…and the culprit? Her partner, Marshall Mann, or rather, his words. Very particular words that had haunted her in the dead of the night for the last few days.

"_I get that you don't like messy, but maybe messy is what you need. Maybe instead of just anyone you should be looking for…someone. Someone who challenges you, who calls you on your BS and gets in your face and…makes you think…" _

Somehow, as she reflected on it, she didn't think Mike Faber was what or whom Marshall had in mind as he told her this. And she sure as hell wouldn't…couldn't let herself think too hard about whom it was that he did have in mind. That whole topic was off the table.

Rolling her eyes and gritting her teeth Mary mentally scolded herself for the direction her thoughts had taken when she was supposed to be relaxing and enjoying her vacation.

"Just…go down to the bar, down some shots and screw Faber one last time, get it out of your system," she mumbled to herself as she finished getting dressed. Except, that was exactly the opposite of what Marshall suggested…and wasn't it Marshall that always knew what was best for her? Wasn't it always Marshall that knew her better than she knew herself?

The answer was yes. Marshall did know best and he truly did know her better than anyone in her life ever did – including her ex-fiancé, her mother, sister, _father…_

But that was a moot point now. She was here, in Mexico, with Faber, a man, a sexy if irritating man that was up for no stings attached sex…and despite what he partner may think, a cowboy was exactly what she wanted to do right now.

Right?

"Right…" she whispered with a curt nod of her head as she grabbed the room key and her purse off the bedside table. With one last glance to her phone (and ultimately deciding it was best to leave it behind) she stepped out of the hotel room and down towards the bar where her latest sexy conquest awaited her.

And with each step, her heart grew heavy without her knowledge. She put it down to the enchiladas she had for lunch.

"Ah there you are Kitten, you ready for the night of your life?" Mike Faber grinned at her suavely as she reached the bar and took the glass of scotch from him.

Tipping it back she drank its entire contents with one gulp, suppressing a little shudder as the alcohol burned down her throat.

Opening her eyes, she regarded him with a level stare and not for the first time since they began their getaway together, she wished he was another man entirely. A taller, funnier, more knowledgeable man with bright blue eyes and an unfortunate work moniker.

"Sure, Faber, bring it on."

**A/N: So, hope you all enjoyed. I'm nervous because this is my first "In Plain Sight" fic (I've only dabbled in Fringe and Covert Affairs fics up until now). Oh and the title means "Reflection" / "Thought" in Spanish. =]**

**The next (and more than likely last) chapter will be from Marshall's POV and will be a little angsty. **

**A review would be lovely!**

**~Cortexikid**


	2. Brazen Vs Sweet

**Pensamiento **

**By Cortexikid**

**Chapter 2: Brazen Contemplation**

**A/N: So, here's chapter 2 from Marshall's POV. I found out quickly that I love writing for In Plain Sight, so I may do another small fic after this. Hope you enjoy!**

"Hey, handsome, you look like you could use some company," came a gentle, sugary-sweet tone laced with a not-so-subtle shot of romantic interest.

Marshall Mann turned in his seat at the bar and was met by the sight of a beautiful, short and slender, red-headed woman with bright blue eyes, smiling brightly up at him, swirling a very girly-looking drink in her well-manicured hand. She was the depiction of elegance, a woman that had the air of never getting her hands dirty – who never had a hair out of place. Picture perfect and prim and proper. And looked a hell of a long way from home in this particular bar.

"Thank you for your kind offer but I'm afraid I wouldn't be great company tonight," he replied politely, bringing up his glass to gulp down the last of another scotch.

There must have been something in his face or tone that the woman didn't want to challenge as she merely nodded, throwing him one last look of obvious interest, before responding lowly, "alright then, but if you change your mind…" she let her suggestion hang and sauntered (hips swinging with impossible captivation) over to a table to his far right, clearly visible in his peripheral vision.

Marshall watched half-heartedly as she sat down and raised her glass to him in a faux-toast gesture. With a tight smile he raised his now empty glass to her before his eyes dropped to the counter and he motioned to the bartender for another.

Over the slurs of half-way drunks and rowdy pool players, Marshall heard the advances the woman was getting from all directions. He frowned a little as he heard what had to have been some of the weirdest pick-up lines such as "Doc, I think Billy has fleas," and "Doc, I think Maisie is depressed…" Slowly, he smiled, realizing his mistake. Apparently, the red-head was the town's veterinarian; either that or these men hadn't a clue how to flirt. It appeared, looks were deceiving. This was obviously a woman who got her hands dirty (the manicure must have been a new addition) and only had tightly fixed hair on a Saturday night out. Marshall must admit, it was a pleasant surprise to be wrong sometimes.

He listened intently for a few moments as the vet politely answered all queries of the surrounding men with a kindness and patience he hadn't seen in a very long time. He also picked up on a hint of superior intelligence but was masked with humble understanding and a woman that didn't want to over-complicate things. Slowly, Marshall returned his gaze back to his glass and away from intelligent, beautiful – if a little forward vets.

Usually, when selecting out-of-town bars Marshall followed a type of strict criteria. For example, they must have an adequate range of various liquors, a not-too-disgusting men's room and a pool table or dart board or some activity to that affect available. Tonight however, he just let his feet lead him to the closest dive in this one horse town that he found himself stuck in for the night. No criteria needed. They sold scotch and that was good enough for him.

Upon inspection, Marshall was a man whom had the air of utter exhaustion about him and understandably so. He had just spent the day with Jack O'Hara, an old Irish immigrant, a witness to a gang-land shooting that now needed anonymity and a fresh start as well as constant check-ins from his regular Marshal Mary Shepard, it would seem.

But, considering Mary was…unavailable this last week (Marshall barely suppressed a shudder as that thought reached his alcohol-soaked conscious) that duty fell to her partner, her friendly, loyal, lap-dog of a partner Marshall frickin' Mann.

"Here you go man," the bartender interrupted Marshall's darkening thoughts.

"Thanks," he murmured abruptly, practically slamming down a crisp twenty dollar bill on the bar.

He could feel the other man's gaze on him as he took up the glass and emptied it in one large gulp. He had a feeling that the bartender was expecting some sort emotional outburst from him and was waiting to be the faux-psychiatrist that most bartenders tended to be but Marshall just wasn't in the 'sharing is caring' mood. Still, he appreciated the unspoken gesture.

"Rough day, huh?"

Marshall looked up in surprise, not expecting to be verbally acknowledged again, he wasn't giving off that kinda vibe after all.

"You could say that," he found himself replying before he could really think about it.

"I hear that…you from outta town?"

Marshall knew this tactic well; he used it a lot on his witnesses. The 'make-them-feel-comfortable-by-asking-them-rudimentary-questions' move. Simple but effective.

"Yeah, sort of. I just decided to stop in for a few before going back to the hotel," he murmured, still well-alert to be his professional U.S Marshal self and not give away any crucial information. And this was after downing four glasses of scotch in less then a half hour. Another perk of being excellent at his job and being able to hold his liquor.

"You look like you've got some troubles," the bartender prodded attentively as he refilled Marshall's glass.

Here Marshall laughed humorously before rolling his eyes.

"Don't we all?" he asked rhetorically.

The bartender nodded in understanding, not wanting to overstep his mark.

"That we do, man. So, are you the 'my girl just left me' type or the 'I hate my job' type?"

Marshall almost grimaced as those words met his ears. Maybe his hypothesis of most bartenders being practically psychiatrists wasn't far off after all.

"A little bit of both tonight I guess…" he responded lowly, this time taking only a small sip from his re-filled glass. He knew his limit and wasn't going to push it; he still had to make it safely back to the office in the morning and sure as hell didn't want to drive with a mother of a hangover.

"Ha. That I definitely get…the woman trouble especially. You never can please 'em, huh?" he asked his own rhetorical question before another customer caught his eye and he apologetically excused himself.

Marshall contemplated the man's words as he was left alone with his thoughts. He was right, maybe a little sexist in Marshall's opinion but Marshall wasn't thinking about the female population in general. No, Marshall was just thinking about one particular female.

His partner. Mary.

Mary Shannon who was at present somewhere in Mexico, laughing and drinking and probably sexing it up with that slime ball Faber.

And that just turned his stomach. Literally. Perhaps the scotch was beginning to help too, he couldn't tell.

And so, yeah, the bartender had a point to some extent. In this instance, Marshall knew that he couldn't please Mary. He couldn't give her everything she thought she wanted. He couldn't just be some cowboy for her to screw in a seedy motel in an alcohol-induced haze. He couldn't and wouldn't be that guy.

But Faber could. And was.

Which was more than likely the reason that he was invited to accompany Mary on her first vacation in years. He could fill whatever…_need_…Mary had.

Well, either that was the reason, or, there was one other. Just one. The one that frightened Marshall to the very depths of his soul.

The terrifying possibility that Mary had not misunderstood his near-proclamation in the office that day. The thought that she knew well what and whom he was talking about when he told her she needed someone that challenged her, got in her face called her on her bullshit and made her think. The thought that after concluding this she ran for the hills (or in this case Mexico) with a 'cowboy' to get the awful truth that was staring her in the face out of her mind.

The terrible truth that her partner, good, loyal, friendly, puppy-dog, geek-chic Marshall was irretrievably in love with her. And had nearly, practically admitted as such, not once, but twice in the last year…

This was the haunting possibility that plagued Marshall the last five days, on and off the job, in the morning, afternoon, evening and night. It plagued him awake, asleep and in that moment on the edge of the in between. It didn't let him rest, physically or emotionally.

So, finally, Marshall did the only thing he could do after a long, tiring day of work. He drank. In a non-criteria-ticking bar. In a one-horse town. With a more than sympathetic bartender and under the watchful eye of a woman so different to his type (could it be called a 'type' if there was only one woman who fell under his category?) as she could possibly get.

And it was also the reason that Marshall felt broken. Lost. And so very…alone. Hurt. Devastated. Tortured and…so many other words that it pained him just to think of them.

Suddenly, a whirl of red caught his eye, momentarily detracting him from his self-proclaimed pathetic stream of melancholy thought.

It was the beautiful woman with the swinging hips and girly drink. The woman that had shown a distinct interest in him. The sweet and patient woman that obviously let him know that he was a man that could fulfil a need for her.

And his interest was peaked. Despite her being all wrong…or at least, all different to what he was used to.

Thoughts of his partner swirled in his head as he stood up and walked closer to where the red-head sat on a stool, perched upright and drumming her nails off the bar with light impatience. As she turned to look at him and offer him a sweet and charming grin, a pleased glint in her eye and an expression of wonder for what was to come, he realized that perhaps he wasn't so inept, so wrong for any woman. That perhaps, he could please one woman, even if it weren't the one he loved.

And it was that motivation alone that provoked him (before his more sober, rational, love-stricken side could protest) to offer his hand to the woman of auburn hair and welcoming gentle personality and say with utter calm and confidence:

"Hi, I'm Marshall. Can I buy you a drink?"

**A/N: So, I've decided to make this a three-shot. I liked leaving this chapter at this point and wanted the next instalment to stand alone so hopefully nobody objects.**

**The next chapter should be up pretty quickly as I've begun it already. Hope you guys are enjoying my first IPS fanfic!**

**So…what do you think? Should Marshall take a break from all the hardass, sarcastic and ****let's face it awesome women (woman) and go for the safe, pleasant and dare I say it, sweet as sugar type?**

**No, I don't**** think so either… =]**

**A review would be lovely**

**~Cortexikid**


	3. Partners' Tiff and Pizza Pie

**Pensamiento**

**By Cortexikid**

**Chapter 3: Partners' Tiff and Pizza Pie**

**A/N: So, here's the final chapter, hope you guys enjoy! Warning: angst ahead.**

Mary heaved a sigh as she rested her head back against the seat. It had been one hell of a long day. Between flights delayed, baggage nearly lost and throngs of sweaty people, screaming babies and unruly hyper kids Mary suddenly remembered why she hadn't gone on vacation in a very long time.

As if parting with Faber wasn't awkward enough (the words, "I'll call you" and thoughts of "don't hold your breath" came to mind) with the short hug goodbye and the so-called charming (more like smug) smile as he walked towards a taxi was enough to make her skin crawl with unease and…dare she admit it, regret.

What was that saying that you only realized a mistake once you've made it over and over again? Or was that insanity? Well, yeah, whatever it was, Mary understood its meaning now as she sat uncharacteristically quietly in the back of her own taxi, eagerly awaiting nothing more but her comfy bed.

Well, maybe a bed wasn't the only thing she was looking forward to seeing…

Marshall returned her call that morning as the bright Sunday sun basked through her hotel window. She was already up and packing and had given Faber his marching orders (well, more like seriously suggesting that he get his ass out of bed and pack before she kicked him out) when her phone vibrated.

"_Hello?" she answered quietly, listening to see if Faber was in the shower yet._

"_Hey, Mare, I only got your message this morning. When's your flight?" came the familiar voice of her partner, sounding a little more hoarse than usual._

"_Uh, yeah, I called last night. Where were you, Doofus? Out fighting crime in your Batman pajamas again?" she teased, a smile spreading across her face as she heard his scolding snort._

"_Yeah, Mare, I'm the 21st century, poorer imitation of Bruce Wayne," he replied sarcastically, "when's your flight?" he asked again, a little less patiently this time._

_She heard something in his voice then. Something she found hard to identify._

"_Uh, my flight's in an hour, I should be back in good ol' ABQ at around 6. You coming to pick me up or am I gonna have to haul my own ass home?"_

_There was a slight pause as she waited for him to reply. She frowned a little as she heard him sigh softly._

"_I thought Faber would give you a ride," he responded dryly and Mary heard the double meaning in his tone._

_Crap. He knows. How the hell does he know! If it was Stan I swear to God he is getting a whole lotta whoop-ass and bowling ball polish for Christmas!_

_Mary's thoughts were going wild as she fought to determine how he found out about her covert companion._

"_Uh, I-I'll get a taxi back if you're busy. See you tomorrow partner," she mumbled before quickly hanging up on him._

Now, as she reflected on her actions earlier this morning, Mary couldn't believe how panicked she felt as her partner asked about Faber. She didn't know why exactly, but the thought of Marshall knowing about him accompanying her this last week set her nerves on edge. And…if she didn't know better, she could have sworn she felt something akin to _guilt_ swirl in the pit of her stomach.

Sighing, she shook her head to rid herself of those stupid thoughts.

_I have no reason to feel guilty,_ she assured herself, as she saw her house come into view as the taxi pulled up outside her drive.

"That'll be ten-forty," the taxi driver informed her as she fumbled for some cash.

"Keep the change," she grumbled before practically jumping out of the back seat and grabbing her luggage from the trunk. As the car pulled away, Mary heaved another sigh (this one content) as she stared at her home, her now fully vacant home.

"Home sweet home," she whispered to herself sarcastically, before hauling her luggage up to the door, pulling out her keys and letting herself in. Slowly, she turned on the lights and looked around her living room and kitchen area, happily noting that it looked exactly as she left it, for once. No Brandi, no Jinx, no havoc or drama…it was good to be back.

She closed the door and locked it before trudging towards her bedroom (leaving her luggage and crap at the door, she'd unpack when she was more awake, or never, whatever was less hassle) and let out a little tired laugh as she laid eyes on her (for once) neat bed.

Slipping off her boots and pulling off her clothes, she didn't bother with pajamas and just plonked on the bed in her underwear and looked up at the ceiling. She felt calmer now that she was home and in familiar surroundings and was surprised that she felt more relaxing now than she did on her entire vacation. And she had a good few hours left to bask in before she got back to work tomorrow morning. Now this was bliss.

Slowly, she closed her eyes and took a deep, calm breath. Thoughts of the last few days, work that would meet her in the morning and…the notable absence of her partner swirling around in her head she pushed it all aside and let sleep claim her.

She had time to think about all that other crap later.

* * *

Marshall blinked several times as he pulled up to the familiar house. His and Mary's signature pizza and beer lay on the passenger seat as he struggled through his muddled thoughts of earlier that day.

_When he awoke this morning, his phone lying haphazardly on his bedside table blinking impatiently letting him know he had a message, he nursed his slightly sore head and reached out for it. With bleary eyes, he clicked the button and held the phone up to his ear._

'_You have one new message. Received yesterday at 8:30pm.'_

_"Hey, Doofus, just checkin' in. You're probably busy getting your ass kicked at online Scrabble by some eleven year old so I'll make this quick. I'll be back being my sunshine self at the office on Monday. Don't forget to check up on O'Hara for me like a good partner, and give Stan a little hell from me too while you're at it. Oh—and I think I saw one of those birds; you know the black and grey ones with long tails? What are they called again? Damn, I know you told me once. Shocking I forgot some of your verbal diarrhoea huh? Uh, anyway, I'll see you soon okay? Don't stay up all night no matter how much a little girl from India taunts you about your Scrabble ineptitude okay? I don't want you all sleep deprived while you finish my paper work; your chicken scratch is hard enough to read as it is. Okay, bye Doofus…"_

_Marshall almost smiled as he heard his partner's term of endearment for him but something stopped him in his tracks. She sounded, odd, off, not like herself. There was something in her voice that sounded strained, almost if she were hiding a clandestine stress or secret and unfortunately, Marshall knew exactly what that was._

_She was in Mexico with Faber, and she was trying to hide it from him. He didn't know which was worse, the fact that she was deliberately keeping something from him, or that she thought that he didn't have to intelligence to know exactly what was going on. Either way, he was hurt, and that was probably the main reason for his actions last night._

As he sat there in his car, staring at her front door, he thought back to his behaviour the night before.

_How he had chatted up a perfectly pleasant and beautiful woman, an intelligent and witty vet originally from Arkansas. It had been quite a while since he had flirted but damn, he knew he did well last night, at least, until it was time to head back to his hotel._

"_So…I guess I'll be saying goodnight," the woman, Julia, said quietly as they walked out of the bar and he hailed a taxi for her._

"_I guess you will," he replied with a smile, "good night, Julia, it was nice meeting you," he finished, turning to leave._

"_Wait!" she called, walking up to him and tapping him on the shoulder, "uh…look, I don't usually do this but…would you—I mean, if you're free and uh…would you like to meet up for a coffee sometime?" she asked all in one breath, her eyes shinning in the dim light of the bar sign._

_Marshall looked down at the petite red-head seriously considering her and the cute look on her face as she put herself out there. She really was quite the woman, he could tell that from their near two hour conversation. And, if he were to really admit it to himself, if this had of been him a few years ago (say nine or ten years ago) he would have accepted her offer without a second thought._

_But, he was older and wiser now, not to mention hardened and had seen far too much in his profession and he just didn't want that… whatever it was, screwing up this sweet and pleasant woman._

_(His decision didn't possibly have anything to do with a tall, kick-ass blonde friend of his. Of course not.)_

"_I—I would love to Julia but…I just got out of a seven year relationship recently and I—I don't think I'm ready for…coffee with a beautiful woman," he replied, nearly cringing at his half-lie and the look of disappointment on her face._

"_Oh…I understand…well, you never know, we might see each other again in the future. Have a good night, Marshall," she responded with her usual gentleness with only a hint of disillusionment as she held out her hand to shake his._

"_You too Julia, and I hope Mr. Boots gets better," he smiled as he shook her hand, trying to erase the discomfort of knowing that he bought this woman an alcoholic drink and talked her ear off for nearly two hours and didn't have the balls to even go for coffee with her. He felt like he led her on and he wasn't proud of it._

"_Thanks Marshall, good night," she called as she turned around and got into the taxi waiting nearby._

_He waved shortly as he watched the yellow car drive away and out of view._

_His heart sank. After everything, only one thing invaded his mind as he began his trek back to his hotel._

_Mary was coming home tomorrow._

Shaking his head at the memory that plagued him all day, he sighed and got out of his car, grabbing the beer and pizza as he did so. Time to face the music. After a lot of deliberation, he decided at least for now, normalcy was what was best for him and Mary. He was damn determined to act like everything was fine, there was no way he would let her know he was bothered by her latest mistake…or in her words _decision_.

He stopped shy of the doorway and raised his hand to knock. After a few moments he heard footsteps reach the door before it opened slightly. His eyes (almost against his will) hungrily drank in her form that consisted of messy hair, bare feet and a body was clad in nothing but an overly-large T-shirt. He swallowed deeply and held out the pizza and beer silently for her to take.

"Oh, you are a God," she exclaimed, yanking the items out of his hands and pulling him through the doorway.

"Hello to you too," he grumbled as he stumbled towards her kitchen.

Mary closed and locked the door before following him, padding into her kitchen to get some plates.

"Yeah, yeah, hi how are you and all that crap. Now sit down and shut your trap, 'Are You Smarter Than A Fifth Grader' is on…"

His eyebrows shot up.

"I thought you hated that show?" he muttered as she shoved the six-pack in his hands and pushed him towards the couch.

"I do, but it's funny as fuck to watch those idiots get their asses kicked by kids. That and it always amazes me how competitive you get with the TV," she grinned, pouncing on her couch and drawing her knees close to her body and under her large t-shirt as he sat down beside her.

"I'm not competitive, I just like to challenge America's youth, it's not the same thing," he mumbled, opening a beer and taking a slice of Mary's favourite pizza.

"Whatever you say, Point-Dexter," she smiled before turning her attention to the TV.

They entered a comfortable (or so they liked to think) silence until the show was over, they were both on their last beer and all that was left of the pizza was a few scarce crumbs.

"Uh, I think I'm pregnant with a food baby," Mary whined, rubbing her stomach with a look of discomfort on her face.

Marshall seriously had to hold his tongue on that particular comment. The words 'really pregnant' and 'Faber Baby Daddy' rolled around in his brain.

"So…how was Mexico?" he decided this conversation was long overdue.

Mary instantly stilled something that did not escape Marshall's eyes.

"It was…a nice break from the job…" she started hesitantly, "but…I'm glad to be back home…in good ol' Albuquerque."

"Uh huh."

Mary froze as she heard the familiar expression escape her partner's lips.

"What's uh huh?" she asked, both of them feeling the odd sensation of déjà vu.

"Nothing. I just didn't think that Faber would be break from the job…" he shrugged, taking a swig of his beer.

Mary gaped at him, not entirely sure how to respond to that. She decided to go to her old friend – anger.

"Yeah, that was something I wanted to ask you about actually. How the hell did you find out about that? Checkin' up on me, Marshall?" She asked, the 'outrage' evident in her tone.

He turned to her with a speed that would have given her a creek in her neck if she moved as fast.

"No Mare, I wasn't 'checking up on you.' I didn't think it was some big secret, and apparently, neither did Stan. Did you not want me to know for some reason?" he asked, underlining anger lacing his tone as the fear of her response was tightly hidden.

_Yep. Stan is definitely getting a dose of my foot up his ass,_ she thought as she glared at her partner, leaping off the couch, folding her arms across her chest and stomping out into her kitchen.

"No, of course not, why would I give a damn what you know? Don't flatter yourself Marshall," she scolded, shoving the pizza box in the trash and opening a cabinet searching for some of the liquor that she kept hidden from Jinx.

Marshall stood up and followed her, anger flowing freely in his veins now.

"Really? 'Cause I got the impression that you didn't want that particular information divulged…you know, considering I asked you if you were going alone before you left and you said, if my memory serves correctly, 'yeah Doofus, just me, the sun, sea and sex on the beach…jealous?'" he almost growled, gripping the edge of the kitchen counter to try and desperately rein in his temper.

Mary turned and looked at her partner full on for the first time since he arrived. Finally she noticed the tense shoulders, the blood-shot, baggy eyes and the crumpled shirt.

"Rough night last night, Marshall?" she asked, decided a change of subject was in order.

"What's it to you?" he snapped before he could stop himself.

_Damn it Mann, get a grip! What happened to not letting Faber and Mexico bother you? Where did those best laid plans disappear to?_

"Geez, sorry Miss Daisy, didn't realize you were on your period. Forget I asked…" she trailed off, cranking open the bottle of scotch she found and pouring a healthy dose into her glass.

Marshall watched her intently, the look of scotch turning his stomach. Suddenly, upon hearing her snappy reply, he was compelled to tell her all about last night (determinedly ignoring his rational side).

"For your information, I went to a bar last night, had a couple of glasses of scotch," he informed her clearly, not meeting her gaze.

"Since when do you go to bars?" she asked, her brow furrowed.

"Since my partner took a vacation and I was left with her work-load. Decided I deserved a break," he knew it was a low blow but suddenly he was plagued with images of her rolling around in a messy bed with Faber's hands all over her. It was enough to make him physically sick.

She laughed humourlessly, not understanding where all this anger suddenly came from.

"You mean the first vacation I've taken in nearly a decade? Well geez Marshall, if it's such a chore I'll break my back for the next ten years without a day off if it means that goddamn much to you," she snapped, slamming the glass back down on the counter.

It was now Marshall's turn to laugh humourlessly.

"You really think we're going to be doing this same old crap in ten years time Mare?"

Mary whipped around to face him, her façade slipping for a moment and her true emotions showing, anger, fear and a lot of hurt.

Marshall's heart constricted tightly in his chest.

"What—what the hell is that supposed to mean?" Mary asked, her voice a lot quieter than before, fearing his response.

"Nothing, it meant nothing. I—look Mare, I gotta go. I'll see you tomorrow," he mumbled, his voice too a hell of a lot softer than before as he hung his head lowly.

He turned and made his way towards the door but before he could open it, he felt Mary stomp after him and roughly yank him around to face her, her hand gripping her arm tightly.

"No, wait; you're not going anywhere until we talk about this! What the hell crawled up your ass and died? What's going on with you?" she demanded hurriedly, not relinquishing his arm for a second.

Marshall was losing steam however. He no longer had the time nor the energy to get into this with her now.

"Nothing's wrong Mare, I just gotta go, welcome home," he half-whispered, gently pulling his arm from her grasp.

She reached back out to him at lightening speed and clasped his arm again.

"Where do you have to be at this hour Marshall? It's past nine…" he knew she was just fishing for conversation, trying to make him stay, trying to calm the situation but it wasn't going to work this time.

"I just…I gotta go, okay? I'll see you tomorrow…" he pulled away from her again and turned towards the door but Mary stepped around him and leant back flush against her door, blocking his way.

"You hiding something from me Marshall?" she asked, looking up into his eyes for the first time. His usually bright blue eyes had dimmed a little and couldn't fully meet her gaze. She knew she was just stalling and looking for an excuse to get him to stay, to get rid of this awkwardness and anger between them but she was just grasping at straws now. He probably wasn't hiding anything; Marshall wasn't like that…he wasn't like her.

"Are you?" she asked again and watched his eyes lower to the ground before his jaw clenched.

"Actually Mare, not that it's any of your business but – I have a date tonight," he lied, trying to ignore his taunting inner voice.

_You pathetic liar…look what you've been reduced to…you're no better than that snake Faber…_

Mary felt a strange sensation rise in her stomach, something she was unwilling to name as her chest clenched uncomfortably.

"Oh…" she mumbled, "well, uh…in that case, don't let me stop you."

She moved away from the door and stepped around him, wrapping her arms around herself.

"Uh, right, well, good night," he replied awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck.

"…Night," she murmured, watching him silently as he opened her door and stepped out into the crisp twilight.

He was nearly at his car before she was compelled to say something, anything…she couldn't leave it like this.

"Hey Marshall?" she called, stepping out onto her porch.

He turned and looked at her expectantly, something she couldn't identify in his eyes.

"Yeah Mare?"

"…Have—have a good time…and—don't scare her away with your vast knowledge of the behaviour of serial killers or the mating habits of otters, okay?"

He nodded silently and turned around, yanking his car door open and was pulling away and out of sight before Mary could take her next breath.

Suddenly, Mary felt cold and so many other things that she feared to name. Slowly, she went back inside, trudged towards her couch and sat down heavily. She was irritated to find that she didn't feel so glad to be home anymore. Grumbling, she ran her hands through her hair impatiently trying not to think about what had just transpired between her and Marshall or what he could possibly get up to tonight…not that it was any of her damn business, just like he said.

Rolling her eyes and ignoring everything she could, she went to get the scotch.

"Home sweet home my ass."

**A/N: And so ends my very first IPS fic. A not-so-happy ending, I know, but it is part angst after all. Not too happy with it but it'll do. Hope you guys liked it…**

**I'd love a review =]**

**~Cortexikid**


End file.
